The Eye of Horus

An ear-to-ear smile disturbed his boyish features. Kunai slipped the crystal in his pocket, causing every levitating object on a half-mile radius to drop into the sand with a loud plonk. His hands on his hips, he drew himself near the unconscious man, his terracotta features lit by dawning comprehension.

‘The Eye of Horus,’ said Kunai, his expression radiant. For the first time in his life, he had spoken clearly, devoid of any stutter of lisp. His bad eyesight seemed to have magically improved as well. For once, he could no longer simultaneously admire the east and the west, all while staring ahead.

‘I know who you are, masked man. You are, doubtlessly, the Great Horus himself,’ said the lad, his callused hands united in prayer, ‘descended into the mundane world to reshape the fate of mankind.’

Kunai pushed the Gold Mask Man face-up, arranging his folded arms neatly upon the chest, and pulled the mantle from under him. Distant tumbleweeds swept across the desert. He returned his attention to the man in the mask.

‘Great Horus, I cannot begin to imagine what madness had caused the Gods to banish you from the Fields of Aaru, nor can I imagine why they disfigured you. Perhaps you tried to meddle in the affairs of us mortals?’ Kunai said to the fainted stranger, as he dragged him across the hot desert sand. ‘But on my honour, O Horus, I shall not squander the power of Your Eye. The Slave Master, Serq Neb-er-Tcher— they are going to end him for not finishing Master Amsu’s burial chamber on time. Should that come to pass, O Horus, it would be of my own doing. Had I been a more lucrative servant, my Master wouldn’t have faced so many flukes and delays. Great Horus, perhaps it is the making of Fate that our paths intertwined…’

By the time the blurry outline of Abdju came into focus, both moon and sun had joined their celestial place on the evening sky. Kunai removed the veil off his face and sat on the ground, taking a moment to wipe his forehead and remove the sand from his sandals. He bent over the unconscious man he had been dragging across the desert since sunrise and put an ear to his chest.

He couldn’t hear his heart anymore, but the man was visibly still breathing. Could banished Gods bleed or get injured? Could banished Gods die? Kunai took out his gourd and smuggled a few drops of hot water into the mouth-gap of the mask. His eyes turned to the heavens again, where the sun and the moon formed a luminous arc, bridged together by the seamless flight of a peregrine falcon.

Great Horus, I shall not waste your tear! Hold on, Slave Master. Help is on the way!

To be continued...

- Louise Blackwick

Advent 2019